


Mince Pies

by jadztone



Series: Sherlock Nanowrimo [17]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Animagus, Crossover, Gen, a bit of crack, everyone loves Mrs. Hudson's mince pies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 09:18:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11399616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadztone/pseuds/jadztone
Summary: Mrs. Hudson keeps seeing a dog hanging around the building, and he seems to love her mince pies.  Then she meets the owner, and he likes her mince pies, too.  What a coincidence.  Except not.





	Mince Pies

**Author's Note:**

> There is a scene in this that calls back to my story Dust Up, but it won't be confusing if you don't read it. I didn't combine the two since this is a crossover and the other one wasn't. 
> 
> This is part of a series of stories I wrote for Nanowrimo and posted on my tumbler page, sherlock-nanowrimo.tumblr.com. I was doing a story a day, generally leaving them open-ended if I wanted to add on to the story later in the month. The ones that I did add on to will be posted on AO3 as multiple chapters. They will all be posted as complete, with no expectation that I will ever revisit them. I haven't changed them from the way they were posted on tumblr, they have their issues, but I like to think of them as diamonds in the rough. The stories contain multiple crossovers with other fandoms, and multiple ships.

Mrs. Hudson gathered up her cleaning materials in preparation to go down to 221C and do some tidying up.  The flat was empty, so there wasn’t much beyond dusting, but it still needed doing. You never know when someone might want to rent it out.  She told people that it was the damp that kept people away, but she knew that the poor state of the flat was the reason.  She just didn’t have the money to fix it up, she was already giving Sherlock a good deal on his rent because of his favors to her.  

Actually, now that she thought about it, she might be able to afford to get some work done.  She’d recently in the past several months has had some mysterious deposits into her account.  It was probably Mycroft, to make up for her treatment at the hands of those awful CIA fellows.  

As Mrs. Hudson opened the door to her flat, she thought she heard what sounded like a soft “Oh!” and then a whoosh.  She paused, her skin prickling.  It couldn’t be Sherlock or John, they’d just left for Dartmoor earlier that day.  She wondered if it was Mr. Chatterjee, hoping she would take him back.  Not bloody likely.  She listened quietly for a few moments longer.   Silence.

She opened the door fully, then let out a small scream when she saw something moving in front of the door to 221C.  She recovered her senses quickly when she realized it was a scruffy little dog.  “Well!  Hello there, sweetie.  Aren’t you the cutest thing!  But how did you get in here?”  She peered over at the front door to the building.  It was firmly shut.  She looked back at the dog.  “Oh dear, if you slipped inside when the boys were loading the car, that means you’ve been here several hours.  Poor thing. Do you belong to someone?”  She crouched down to see if he was wearing a collar. He looked up at her with big brown eyes, trembling.  “It’s okay, dearie, I won’t hurt you.  Hmm, I don’t see a tag.”  The dog blinked.  “Oh, wait, here’s one.  It just has a telephone number on it.  Alright little one, let’s go call your owner.”  

Mrs. Hudson straightened up and held the door open to her flat.  “Come on!” She whistled at the dog.  It stared at her, not moving.  “I promise I won’t hurt you.  I’m trying to help.”  It still didn’t move.  “I can’t pick you up, I have a bad hip.”  Still no movement.  “I’ve got some mince pies leftover from last night.  I’ll give you one if you come along.”  The dog’s ears perked up.  It whined for a moment, then with what seemed like a resigned look, trotted into her flat. She went over to the phone, and checking the tag again, dialed the number.  She reached a voice mail.  “Hello, my name is Tobias Pennifold.  If you are calling about my dog, I can assure you that he’s perfectly friendly, doesn’t get into mischief, and knows exactly where to find me when it’s time to go home. If you have any other concerns, you may leave a message.  Thank you.”

Mrs. Hudson hung up.  “Well, that was odd.  So, I’m supposed to just let you out the front door and trust you’ll find your way home?”  The dog gazed at her with his brown eyes.  “Well, your owner knows you better than I do.  I’ll give you your mince pie and then send you on your way.  That sound good?”  The dog wagged its tail.  Mrs. Hudson chuckled and went into the kitchen.

After she had given the dog some mince pie, and spent some time petting him and chatting random nonsense while he looked up at her soulfully, she went to the front door of the building and opened the door.  The dog trotted out to the street and down the sidewalk.  Mrs. Hudson sighed and went back inside.  She grabbed her cleaning supplies that she had left in the hallway and fished out the key to unlock the door to 221C.  She was about to insert the key in the lock when she suddenly remembered that she had something very important to discuss with Mrs. Turner. She turned around and went back into her flat.

A couple weeks later, Mrs. Hudson left her flat and saw that once again the dog was standing in the hallway. Oh dear.  “What are you doing here, again?  Did Sherlock accidentally let you in?  Sometimes he’s engrossed in his mobile and doesn’t pay attention. Are you back for more mince pie? I bet you are.  Well, come on then.”  The dog trotted into her flat and once again partook of her mince pie. Once again, she petted him and chatted with him.  She told him all about how she was done with Mr. Chatterjee for good.  She had held firm and wasn’t going to give into his charm and delicious food.  And as before, she opened the door to the street and the dog took off down the road. This happened once more a week later, and then she didn’t see the dog for a long time after that.  

One day, she was coming out of 221B and was about to come down the stairs, when the front door opened and a man stepped inside.  This was troubling as only someone with a key should be able to get in.  The man went down the hallway towards her flat.  Her blood ran cold.  It couldn’t be Beliles again, could it?  She thought he’d been taken care of.  She crept down the stairs and listened.  She heard him whisper what sounded like “Aloha!”  Was he Hawaiian?  Who was he talking to?  She heard the door open.  She peeked around the corner, and saw that the man wasn’t going into her flat after all. He was going into 221C.  

Suddenly she was no longer concerned about this man possibly being dangerous.  She was more upset by the possibility that he was a squatter taking advantage of her empty flat.  “Oh no you don’t!”  She marched down the stairs and over to the door of 221C.  She pulled her key out of her pocket and was about to insert it in the lock, when suddenly she remembered that she’d left her kettle on and it might burn.  She turned to the door of her own flat.  “No! What’s the matter with me?   I didn’t put the kettle on.  I’m trying to confront a squatter.”  Her expression determined, she turned back to 221C and unlocked the door.  She looked down the stairs at the doorway that led to the flat.  She carefully made her way down the stairs, and opened the door.

To her utter astonishment, Mrs. Hudson saw that the flat looked absolutely nothing like it had when she last saw it.  The walls were free of mould, the wallpaper was immaculate, the carpet was clean. There was a cheerful assortment of furniture in the room.  It even smelled nice, like oranges.  This was no ordinary squatter.  

The man, who appeared to be an older gentleman with silver hair and beard, emerged from the kitchenette and let out an exclamation when he saw Mrs. Hudson.  “Oh!”  The sound of it was familiar, like she’d heard him say this before.  “How did you get in here?”

She recovered from her astonishment.  “With my key, of course!  This is, after all, my flat which I have not rented out to anyone in five years!  The question is, how did you get in here? And how did you manage to renovate this place without me noticing?  And is that…is that a greenhouse?!”  She walked towards a door at the far end of the room that had a glass panel.  Sure enough, on the other side of the door she caught a glimpse of plants and sunlight.  “This is a basement apartment, how can you possibly have a greenhouse?”  She turned back to him.  He looked terrified.  

“Oh, this is a disaster. I was afraid this would happen. My wand is in the shop and they gave me a loaner, but I can’t use it on muggles.  It could cause damage.”

Mrs .Hudson looked at him incredulously.  “What nonsense are you talking about?”

He glared at her in frustration.  “How did you get past my charms?  It must have taken an incredibly strong will…”

“You bet your arse, mister! No one takes advantage of me by squatting in my own building!  I own this flat and if you want to live here you pay rent!”

“But…but…I do!  Haven’t you been seeing it in your bank account? Is it not enough?”

Mrs. Hudson stared in astonishment.  “You were the one making those deposits?”  He nodded. She threw up her hands.   “Well for heaven’s sake!  I don’t understand any of this.  Normal tenants fill out an application, get a background check, sign a lease and then they do the whole moving in and making payments thing.”  

She narrowed her eyes. “Wait, did you skip those first few things for a reason?”  The man looked away from her nervously.  “That’s it, isn’t it?  For whatever reason, you can’t go through a formal process.  Are you here illegally?  Committed a crime?”  

He gave her a pleading look. “I promise you that I have not committed any crimes.  I can’t explain why, but there is a good reason why I didn’t want to go through legal channels to start living here.  Look, I promise that I’ll be a good tenant.  I pay my rent every month.  You can see I’ve already fixed up the place.”

She shook her head in amazement, “And was quiet as a mouse doing it.  I mean, a greenhouse?!?”

“Please, Mrs. Hudson.  I won’t cause you any trouble at all.”

She sat down on one of the chairs.  It was quite comfortable.  The whole place was spotless.  “Oh dear, I don’t know.  I have to be careful, you see.  Not just for my own safety and that of my property.  There’s Sherlock and John to consider.”

“Who?  Oh, you must mean the other tenants.  The ones in 221B.  Why do you have to consider them?”

Mrs. Hudson raised her eyebrows.  “Are you joking?  This building has a massive target on it ever since Sherlock started making the news. If it’s not some criminal targeting him for revenge, it’s a journalist trying to get a story.  I have to protect my boys.  They are far more important than some new tenant who is…incredibly clean and…”  She put her hand over heart as she stared at the ceiling.  “Is that crown molding?”

The man cleared his throat.  “This is very concerning.  Are you saying that your other tenants are famous?  That’s why there’s always people coming in and out of the building?”

Mrs. Hudson blinked at him.  “You really don’t know who they are?  Their picture has been on the front page several times.  In front of this building.”

“Oh dear.  No, I don’t read mug…er, the newspaper.  And I’m not sure I like the idea of so many eyes on this building.  I prefer to keep a low profile.”

“Well, if you’ve been here a few months and this is the first time I’ve met you, I’d say you do a pretty good job of it.  Look, if you really aren’t here because of Sherlock, then maybe I can let it slide that…”  She paused and listened.  “Do you have some sort of white noise machine on?  I could swear I hear the sound of waves crashing against a shore.”

The man abruptly got to his feet.  “Mrs. Hudson, maybe we should continue this conversation in your flat.”

“Why?  This place is much nicer than mine.”

“Um…er…well, I’m dying to try your mince pies.  I…er…overheard your other tenants discussing them.”

Mrs. Hudson beamed.  “Oh Sherlock does love them.  Okay, why not.”

They went up the stairs to her flat and sat down in the kitchen.  As she served him, she asked, “You know, I just realized I still don’t know your name.”

“Tobias Pennifold,” he said, as he chomped down on a mince pie.  

Mrs. Hudson goggled at him.  “Of course! You’re the one who owns the little dog that keeps showing up in the hallway.”  She laughed gaily.  “No wonder, it’s because he lives here.  Oh, I thought he kept coming back because of the pies.”

Mr. Pennifold looked like he swallowed the wrong way.  “Oh, I uh…I hope he hasn’t been disturbing you.”

“Oh no, he’s very sweet.  I like him. I’m glad to know he will be around often.  I enjoy petting him and telling him stories.”

He put down the pie he’d been eating.  “About that, Mrs. Hudson.  I’d prefer it if you didn’t pet him quite so much.  It makes him uncomfortable.”

She frowned at him.  “What do you mean?  He seems to enjoy it very much when I pet him.”

“It’s, uh, it’s confusing to him.  It’s not something he’s used to.”

Mrs. Hudson gave him a disapproving look.  “Are you saying you are not in the habit of petting your dog?”

Mr. Pennifold’s cheeks tinged with red.  “He doesn’t get a lot of affection.”

She let out a puff of air.  “Then, no wonder he’s confused!  Poor thing! Dogs need love and affection, just like people.”

He held up his hands.  “Yes, you’re right of course.  If I promise to pet my dog more often, will you stop?”

“How often?”

“I’ll pet him every day!  Multiple times a day!  He’ll get more attention than he ever has!”

Mrs. Hudson narrowed her eyes at him.  What he said seemed very rude, but she wasn’t sure how.  “Fine, I won’t pet him anymore.”  She sighed.  “But now it makes me want to get my own dog.  I’ve been feeling a bit lonely since I broke up with my gentleman friend. And it could protect me.  We keep having break-ins.”

“Like the one a couple months ago?”

She gave him a sharp look.  “How did you know about that?”

“I heard your tea tray crashing to the floor and I came running up.”

“I didn’t see you there.”

“Well, er, I mean, you had a gun in your hand.  And since I wasn’t technically supposed to be here, I figured you had things under control and I left.”

Mrs. Hudson propped her chin on her fists.  “It was the oddest thing.  An old acquaintance of mine was holding a gun to Harry’s head in my kitchen. One minute I was dropping the tea tray and screaming at the top of my lungs, the next minute I had the gun in my hand and he was on the floor, surrendering.  Harry called the police and Beliles was finally put away.  Such a relief, but I still don’t know how it happened. I thought I remember hearing a voice saying something about expelling someone, but I have gaps in my memory. Oh, I’m getting old!  This funny old brain doesn’t work anymore!”

Mr. Pennifold gave her a considering look.  “I wouldn’t say that.  You’re a lot stronger than you realize.”

She simpered at him.  “Oh, why do you think that?”

He murmured, “Well for one thing, you made it past my protective enchantments.”

“Your what?”

He smiled.  “I was just saying that you’re very enchanting.” He stood up.  “Mrs. Hudson, I really must go now.  It’s been a pleasure meeting you, and I’m sorry for all the subterfuge.  I hope that you will continue to let me be your tenant.  I promise I won’t disturb you or your other tenants.”

“Oh, well, I guess we’ll see how it goes.  See you later, then.”  

Mr. Pennifold nodded and went out the door of her flat.   Mrs. Hudson suddenly remembered another question she had.  She hurried over to her front door and opened it.  Instead of Mr. Pennifold, she saw the little dog standing there at the entrance to 221C.  “Oh dear.  You just missed your owner.  I’ll go ahead and let you in, but I can’t keep doing this for you.  I’m not your dog minder.”


End file.
